


Racecar is a Palindrome

by squick



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1950s, Fantasy, Gen, Low Fantasy, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Racism, i wrote this for a short story contest like. over a year ago, vintage fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squick/pseuds/squick
Summary: Illegal drag-racing in the 50s.





	Racecar is a Palindrome

**Author's Note:**

> took the idea for this from a thought my bud had on tumblr: http://olliewicks.tumblr.com/post/93935916895/aiicheerio-i-love-the-idea-of-like-vintage

Blighter Beetley finished cleaning under his nails before looking over to his competition. “How you feeling today, huh, Chocolate Chip?”

Eloisa Jefferson ignored the nickname. “I’m doing just fine, Beetley. And yourself?”

He smiled brightly. “I’m feeling like it’s a good day for a race.”

“Well that,” Eloisa nodded, looking out from the platform and over the crowd. “Is something that the two of us can agree on.”

It was a late August morning, and heat haze bounced around on everyone’s vision as they looked into the distance. Today’s race was taking place at the abandoned airport in what used to be downtown. Since the city had moved slightly to the right, a new airport was constructed, bigger and better, with bigger and better planes. Conveniently lined by trees and thus surrounded by forest, the airport was far enough from the city that it was a sensible place to hold illegal drag races, but close enough to town that the feds would never think anyone would dare to do something there. The terminals were packed with people, their faces glued to the windows as they watched the competitors.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer, adorned with a motorcycle helmet floated past the two racers. “It’s the race you’ve all been waiting for. The 1955 Championship Drag Race! Put your hands together for our top two contestants - The Blightening Rod,”

An outpour of screeches erupted from the crowd as they cheered. Blighter was a fan favourite. He was the son of wealthy local  business magnate, and he was not ugly. A broad shouldered white guy with blinding teeth, Blighter’s outfits were always outlandishly well coordinated. No matter how many races he was in, he always found a new way to make his outfits match Hot Rod’s red and white color scheme. His blond hair made up for whatever yellow his wardrobe lacked.

He was, interestingly, one of the more pleasant bigots that Eloisa was acquainted with. Blighter Beetley was, after all, one of the only competitors who had never considered passing up on racing her because of her color or gender; nor had he ever vocalised that either of these factors would ensure his success.

Blighter Beetley was racist and rude like the majority of them, but at least he cared too much about racing to let it get in his way.

The announcer began to speak once more. “And his opponent, the underdog, the dark horse,” He paused to laugh at his own joke. “The Black Plague!”

Eloisa was always stunned by the amount of support she received. She was just a girl from a suburb, trying to scrape together some money for college. But these people, screaming at the top of their lungs, jeering, almost outdoing Blighter’s fans - they saw her as something else. Perhaps, she was something more.

The ‘black’ part was in regards to the rider. She was a tall young lady with wide hips, who had a bad habit of constantly cracking her knuckles. Her skin was the colour of dark walnut wood, and it irritated her that the shade of her skin earned her the name of one of the most devastating epidemics that the world had ever encountered. Her ride was a prague and that sounded close enough to plague for a bad pun to be made. Eloisa was decked in dark greens and purples, her helmet beneath her arm as she waved to the crowd.

“Now you two.” The announcer turned to address the competitors. “You know the rules. Anything goes! That is, anything just short of external weapons and murder.”

Blighter’s fans booed at that. They always did. He wasn’t as fast as he was innovative and aggressive. It’s what had gotten him this far. Eloisa was creative and elusive. They were at opposite ends of the racing pole, and this was what the audience had waited all year to see.

When the two of them agreed to the rules, they shook hands. Blighter winked at Eloisa. Eloisa grimaced. The announcer spoke again.

“Racers!” He yelled, then turned back to the audience. “Board your beasts.”

Blighter let out a loud ‘Hey!’ to his dragon, and Hot Rod lowered his head as the fans screamed ‘Ho!’ in response. Hot Rod was a quaped, hunched over on all fours, and the very image of an evil dragon holding a princess hostage in a tower. His red and white scales were jagged, and his yellow maw was massive, filled with pointed teeth poised for tearing apart his prey. As was typical of the European breeds, he breathed fire regularly when Beetley first got him. His parents quickly told the trainer to “fix that little issue” when Blighter began teaching it to set the newspaper on fire. With an enormous wingspan, he (and his rider) were a force to be reckoned with.

Pato pulled his wings to his slender body and allowed Eloisa to climb across his claws, up onto his back. His wings were a steely grey shade like his underbelly and the speckles that ran along his body. His snout was long and without a hook, and he had a few pointed teeth. Where Western dragons had horns, he had the signature antennae sprouting from his temples, a symbol of East Asian descent. There was nothing too terrifying about him, unless you had a fear of claws, which really, no one could do much of anything about on a dragon. He could slither through tree branches and out of harm’s way in the nick of time. Racing was about speed, not brute strength. Eloisa’s nature matched her dragon’s, and they would not go down easily.

The announcer spoke again.

“On your marks.” Both dragons flipped their heads in preparation.

“Get set.” The beasts bent their knees, the riders settled down in their saddles.

“Go.”

The announcer practically whispered it into the microphone, and the riders were gone from the runway before the crowd had a chance to start cheering.

Immediately, the announcer on his floating platform snapped his fingers, and the enormous airport windows became screens. They flew to life with the image of Blighter Beetley and Eloisa Jefferson flying just above the trees, impossibly close to each other, but neither making any attempts at physical contact.

That is, until Blighter pulled slightly away from Eloisa and Pato, then swerved back quickly to collide with them; but Eloisa and her dragon were fast thinkers, so they dove down into the trees, sending a flurry of leaves up into the air after them.

Blighter knew that there was no time to look for them down there. They would have to press on.

Where Blighter could not keep eyes on his opponent, the flying cameras could. The screens at the airport dropped Blighter from their focus and turned entirely to Eloisa. Pato was bounding through the trees, gently pouncing on branches every now and then, and propelling himself through the maze of foliage. Eloisa knew that they could not remain here for the entirety of the race. While weaving was a fine skill for avoiding being attacked, it was also a surefire way to slow them down.

Looking ahead, she watched the leaves as light reflected and bounced off of them. She scanned the area until she could finally pinpoint it, a path where large patches of light would darken and then reappear. This, she concluded, was without a doubt Blighter and Hot Rod. She latched onto Pato’s reins and steered him to the right.

The camera switched back to Blighter, who was starting to pick up speed and take the lead. That lead was obstructed when ahead of him, a flash of grey and purple erupted from the trees below. Shooting straight up into the air but a few meters from him, Blighter pulled at Hot Rod’s reins and forced the dragon to stop in mere seconds to avoid a collision.

In the meantime, Pato had made a sharp turn in the sky above, and was already flapping his wings, zooming off in the direction of the finish line once again.

Blighter swore, then kicked into Hot Rod’s flanks, and the dragon dashed off once again.

Eloisa was guiding her dragon back down to the same altitude as her competitor, and positioned herself dead ahead of him. No matter how Hot Rod swerved, Pato swung in front of the other dragon and cut him off again, again, and again. The slender dragon seemed to be poking fun at them, waving its tail in their face as it stayed just far enough ahead to prevent any sudden movements.

Blighter was furious.

But, admittedly, Blighter was also having a good time. He leaned down close to his dragon, rubbed the scales on his head, and whispered something into his ear before sitting up straight again.

Hot Rod opened his massive chops and then clamped down, gnashing Pato’s tail between his teeth. With a jolt, Pato was snatched back as the shorter dragon flipped his head and released him. Hot Rod was not big enough to completely overtake the other dragon, but he’d done enough to make Pato recoil on himself, and send him back a few meters.

Eloisa yiped as she was pulled back with her dragon, and clenched to Pato to retain her balance. Pato rolled and adjusted until he achieved equilibrium. Closing her eyes, Eloisa put her head down, trying to escape the rising dizziness and nausea, and when she opened her eyes, Pato had levelled himself back with Hot Rod, neck in neck with him.

“Awake yet?” Blighter asked, smiling brightly.

Eloisa cleared her throat, then nodded curtly. “Yeah, yeah I am.”

Both riders leaned forward almost simultaneously, and their dragons began to speed through the sky.

They were neck in neck, talon to talon, snout to snout, weaving and swerving in time with each other, each pulling slightly ahead every so often. This, both riders were sure, was exactly what the crowd wanted to see. The two top dogs, duking it out head to head -

Suddenly, the both of them saw flashing red lights from their peripheral vision, and they both turned to see what was happening, slowing their dragons down.

The announcer’s face was splayed on the lens that usually filmed for the screens back at the airport. He was speaking in hushed, rushed tones, and appeared to have stowed himself away somewhere dark in place of his usual hovering about.

“Listen, the feds’re coming. And I like you kids, so I don’t want you getting into any trouble. Not to mention that we can’t have a race if the two of you are arrested.”

Eloisa shrivelled. “Rollers? How’d they -”

“I don’t have the answers, kiddo. Someone probably leaked our location.” The announcer cut her off. “But you two need to get somewhere out of the sky, and fast. I can’t keep talking - we’re evacuating the crowd and we’ve blacked out the windows, but I’ve got other priorities. It’s on you two from here.”

And with that, he disappeared.

Eloisa turned to look at Blighter, ask him what he wanted to do, where he thought was safe; but Blighter was already taking off ahead of her, searching for a place to land. They’d shared handshakes and smiles, but they were far from friends.

Eloisa took the hint, and she and Pato dove into the trees once again, lower than they had gone before, almost grazing the forest floor as they wove around stumps. Eventually, Eloisa slowed Pato down, allowing him to land and walk slowly across the grass.

She dismounted and walked next to him, looking up through the leaves. Blighter had decided his own fate. They would be safe down here.

Blighter was still in the sky.

Bringing Hot Rod down like Eloisa had Pato would’ve landed his dragon with impaired vision, and a trail of smashed branches that would lead cops right to him. His best bet was to go forward, try to find a clearing, somewhere to land, and mask himself from there. Eloisa could disappear as she pleased, and he knew that she would. He was not so lucky.

The sound of the sirens spooked Hot Rod, and he reared. Blighter held tightly to the reins and rubbed at the dragon’s head, trying to soothe him, trying to urge him forward, but Hot Rod was suspended in the air, too afraid to do anything else.

Blighter turned to see them - cops, flying in on hovering boards, approaching from behind. They had definitely been spotted. The police were shouting something at him, but he couldn’t process it, he was too busy trying to figure out how he’d get out of this one.

Theoretically, he could buy his way out. His father had enough money and connections to get him out of just about any trouble that might come his way.

But then again, his father had also told him that dragon racing was “a waste of time and resources”, and that he’d have nothing to do with it if Blighter ever got into trouble because of it.

Maybe he himself had enough saved up and enough influence to make it out alive. Maybe it would be better if he just turned himself in and -

A blur of grey and purple shot up from the trees, crossing the cops’ path and stopping them dead in the sky. Blighter recognized this trick. It had been used on him mere minutes before, after all.

“I’m buying you time!” Eloisa’s voice erupted through Blighter’s helmet. “Go!”

Blighter did not need to be told twice. He snapped Hot Rod’s reins, and before the police could re-orient themselves, he was off.

Eloisa directed Pato back over himself and toward the cops again. She was certain that they could outfly them without problem. A few of the cops had set off after Blighter, so she went for them, cutting them off again and and then again before diving into the trees once more. She would have done it again once more for good measure - just to be sure that Blighter had gotten away safely - but the cops had followed her down into the treetops.

She had not expected this, and nearly collided with them as Pato shot back upward. She swore under her breath, and zipped off in a completely different direction.

“STOP! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!” The police shouted to her from behind, evading the branches nearly as well as Pato.

Pato had claws. Pato did not have teeth, but Pato could do serious damage. Eloisa did not want to hurt the cops. Mainly, she did not want to hurt them because it was wrong to hurt others, but in the case that she was arrested, she wanted to avoid adding “assault and battery of an officer” to her charges. Though, in all honesty, they would probably try to charge her for whatever they could think of.

She never quite forgot that she was Black, but she sometimes forgot everything that being Black entailed for her. She faintly remembered the news that morning about a lynching in Mississippi. It was only last year that Black boys and girls were allowed to go to the same schools as White boys and girls. Eloisa was not sure how the police force would feel about a Black girl caught illegal and also integrated drag racing.

Perhaps helping Blighter had been a bad idea. She would worry about that later. She would make sure that there would be a later.

She pressed forward, laying low to her dragon’s back. They accelerated as fast as they’d ever gone this low to the ground. Eloisa was no longer in control of the dragon, Pato was directing himself through the trees, knowing full well what he could and could not avoid at this speed better than Eloisa could have.

His evasion was good. A few cops tripped up, crashing into branches and falling from their hoverboards. Quite a few remained at a distance, but still close enough to keep Eloisa on her toes. She was unsure of how long her dragon could keep this up. Eloisa closed her eyes, and she swore again.

“That’s not very lady-like of you.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around, only to remember that the helmet was enchanted, and only one person could be speaking to her.

“Pato have anymore juice in him? He can’t go any faster’n that, can he, Mammy?”

Eloisa narrowed her eyes in irritation and took a deep breath. She latched onto Pato’s antenna and pressed herself completely flat to the dragon before muttering,

“Just watch him.”

And with another kick, Pato dropped low to the ground and was flying faster than he had ever flown before with Eloisa onboard. She did not know what Blighter was thinking. She had nothing else to work with. She nailed her eyes shut. Pato pressed forward.

The sound came first, then the smell, then the warmth. Eloisa was too nervous to look up for quite awhile, and only when Pato stopped zigzagging did she sit up again and glance around.

Pato had reached a clearing in the woods, and was flying back up and into the sky where he’d much rather be. Eloisa looked back and saw the woods behind them, engulfed in orange flames. Her eyes widened in horror. The cops were shouting, and the fire was hot enough that even at a distance she could feel it. It was not spreading all too quickly; rather, it was releasing billow after billow of smoke, and Eloisa was just happy not to be caught in the midst of it. As she watched, a familiar silhouette began to emerge from the smog.

“There’s no point waiting - we gotta split!” Blighter hissed into his helmet, and Eloisa heard him loud and clear. As soon as Blighter caught up to her, they both flew off side by side.

Eloisa looked back at the rising smoke once again. “Thank you.”

Blighter shook his head, never looking at her. “I don’t like owing people. We’re even.”

She glanced at him then before nodding and looking ahead too. “We’re even.” She paused, then spoke again. “But I’m not letting this race go. We’re finishing it, sooner or later.”

Blighter chuckled and finally looked over at her. He was smiling again, in the way that only racing could make him smile.

“Wouldn’t settle for anything less.”


End file.
